


The Longest Silence

by lumberjacksnackpack



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, American Sign Language, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Gay, Gay Male Character, Homophobic Language, House Party, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mute - Freeform, Muteness, Open Relationships, Partying, Sign Language, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, note passing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7573441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumberjacksnackpack/pseuds/lumberjacksnackpack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiloh never thought he could be anywhere close to normal. Since he stopped talking, people have stopped listening, and he's alright with that because it's given him time to focus on his studies.<br/>When he started high school, he didn't kid himself with asperations out of his reach. He never thought he would met pretty girls, go to parties, be under the influence, or keep secrets from his family. <br/>But when Christian comes into his life, determined to show him the ropes and treat him like a normal kid, they get more than they bargained for. </p><p>(I'll fix this summary when I get further in the story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Lemon Doughnut

**Author's Note:**

> I will add trigger warnings for later chapters

“You’re just like any other kid.”

That’s what his mother had told him before she left for work this morning. 

“Don’t worry about what other people say, you’re just like any other kid.”

Shiloh sat down in class, first day of school for another year, first day back to pressure in his lungs that was simultaneously frightening and exciting. Mostly painful. He unpacked, fresh notebooks, fresh pencils that lined up perfect, a fresh white eraser (that would be almost too painful to use because it was too perfect,) and well worn but clean calculator that he loved. Everything was going well. Content, he was able to focus on his new teacher for Calculus, Mrs. Yurimura, as she explained the outline of the syllabus that would be his life for one hour a day for five days a week for an entire school year.

Before she had begun the grading system, Mrs. Yurimura was interrupted by a boy in low-falling blue jeans and a white paper bag in hand leaned in the doorway.

“Miss Yu?” He sang.

“Christian.” She bemusingly answered him. “Do I have the pleasure of having you in my class again?”

“Yes Ma’am. Doughnut?” He offered the bag. “Lemon filling.”

Mrs. Yurimura said nothing, just pointed him to an empty seat with a smile. He left the doughnut on her desk and slid into the seat behind Shiloh.

He knocked one of Shiloh’s pencils onto the floor.

“Shit.” He rescued it from a dusty grave, handing it back. “Sorry.”

Class continued with no other hitch, but Shiloh felt a growing dislike for the boy at his back, somewhere between jealousy over his easy-going manner and hate for his slippery litheness. How could be break the rules and make up for it with a pastry? It made no sense. And for him to show familiar insubordination with a teacher was a second mystery. That she allowed it was a third. Mrs. Yurimura had just smiled and let him take a seat.

Jealousy was less ugly, but less likely.

 

* * *

 

Soon period one was over and the hallways flooded with students. Shiloh threaded his way towards C building, which was oddly not next to B or D building, but separate. Every now and then the sound of teenage girls screaming when they saw their friends cut the air.

It might be one of the single most annoying things about girls that age.

Shiloh ducked through the throngs of students who did not know how to move through a hallway. He often considered how making lanes in the hallway would affect the traffic.

Most often he decided it wouldn't change a thing because people would just ignore it.

He was the first person to arrive in his second period classroom.

He marched up to his teacher, a Mr. McCadden according to his schedule, and handed him one of the premade teacher notes he’d brought.

It explained briefly that he didn’t talk but would work hard and make up any oral presentations in other ways as the teacher saw fit. It was signed by his mother and the principal.

“Alright.” McCadden set the note on his desk and turned away without another word. Somehow his desk was already littered with papers and the odd beaker, even though it was the first day.

Shiloh sat front and center, next to the archaic overhead projector that still used transparencies to show notes. He unpacked, fresh notebooks, fresh pencils that lined up perfect, a fresh white eraser that was now slightly grey.

This year was going to go well.

For some reason saying that made it feel like it would.

“Hi.” Came a ringing voice from his right.

A girl that was the embodiment of sunshine shot him a pearly smile as she scooted out the chair next to him.

Of all the seats she had to pick from…

“You have the right idea,” She was prattling, pulling books and pens out of her bag. Everything she produced was yellow. Even her textbook had a yellow fabric cover. “Sitting in the front to see the board. I have just terrible eyes, my goodness, so I’m always the first in class on the first day to nab a front row seat.”

She pulled out a pair of glasses with thick yellow rims and set them on her tiny, painfully straight nose.

“I’m Melanie.” She said like a statement and a question all at once. Then she looked at him like she was waiting for his answer.

From his bag he pulled a small notepad with a spiral on top. It was new like the rest of his notebooks, and he flipped open the cover and wrote on the first page:

_My name is Shiloh. I don’t talk._  
  
---  
  
“...Oh.” She didn’t seem to know what to do with that information.

By now more people were filing into the room, another girl sat on Melanie’s right and she turned, chatting in that high, singsongy voice.

Shiloh closed his note pad, hiding the note he’d just written.

_Is everything you own yellow?_  
  
---  
  
She didn’t have the time to bother with him.

 

* * *

 

Breaks from class were a whole new beast. Students seemed to get more stupid with how they stood, congregating on steps and in doorways that other people needed to use.

Shiloh dropped by his locker, switching out his books for the next set. He marked his homework for period one and two on a whiteboard that he'd put up this morning and pulled a bag of carrots from his lunch bag.

In every hallway and every room there was an incessant buzz of people talking. There was something about the noise of a thousand voices all at once talking about different things that gave Shiloh a headache. He couldn’t listen to everything.

It was hard to focus.

So he headed to the haven he’d discovered early last year: Mr. Strichter’s American Sign Language classroom. Strichter lived up to his name and name sign, he was strict as hell about silence in the room and signing only.

It helped to quiet the small panic and lack of control Shiloh felt in spoken conversation.

When Strichter saw him he smiled and gave a wave. Shiloh put down his bag and carrots and waved back.

Strichter asked about his summer, and Shiloh explained that he had been almost sedimentary, except for a short trip to Japan for some sightseeing.

His hands felt rusty and a little cramped from not signing all summer, but Strichter didn’t comment on it.

When his eyes flicked to the door Shiloh followed them.

Gil waved, parking his roller backpack in the corner.

Strichter asked him over, questioning him about deaf summer camp and the deaf baseball team he was on and if he saw that deaf dancer on TV?

Gil’s hands danced around, shaping and describing his summer eloquently. If Shiloh wasn’t so in awe he may have felt a pang of jealousy for the second time today.

Of course he was still that good.

He’d been signing all his life.

Since his mom got sick during her pregnancy, they knew there was a risk of their first child being deaf.

When he was it was no matter to his parents. They learned sign and taught him sign and now were always organizing more things to help Gil.

They found the summer camp, the team, they even campaigned for an expansion of the sign language program at school.

They were very involved, very supportive, and very nice.

Gil had turned out spectacularly because of it.

Except for a chronic illness he didn’t go into depth about, he was essentially perfect.

He turned to Shiloh, starting to quiz him on his summer.

Shiloh concentrated hard on his hands and fingers and face and mouth to try to fight the rust in his joints.

Gil seemed impressed. He grinned in the way Shiloh had only seen deaf people grin. Somehow every expression was louder.

Gil signed that Shiloh seemed to have gotten better since he last saw him.

Shiloh brushed it off and humbly remarked that he signed like a baby with fat hands.

Everyone laughed at that.

Sign language was one of the closest things Shiloh got to confidence. He could keep up in conversation this way. He could be funny this way. He could be normal this way.

Normalcy had always been a touchy subject, but it was impossible to ignore. Every time someone looked at him weird he was reminded of how not normal he was.

But Gil and Mr. Strichter didn’t look at him like that.

 

* * *

 

After the break Shiloh went straight to Health class. His teacher had posters all over the room with words like penis and vagina on them.

She was a small woman with big glasses was writing many more words of the same caliber on the whiteboard. As kids filed into the room, they started giggling.

Shiloh sat  in the front of the room, ignoring the words. He unpacked, fresh notebooks, fresh pencils that lined up perfect, a fresh white eraser that was now slightly more grey.

He saw Melanie looking around the room for a seat. Maybe she’d sit next to him again to be in the front.

She sat in the front row exactly one seat away from him.

She may as well have sat across the school. The message was clear; she’d rather be out of range of Shiloh and his notebook then sit where she could see the board easiest.

As his teacher, a Ms. Bensen according to his schedule, started listing off the words on the board with the straightest face imaginable, Shiloh started to take notes.

He’d have to look some of them up.


	2. Geez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiloh spends some time studying after school while waiting for his brother to finish practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw use of homophobic slur

The final bell rang like a peal of cruel laughter and teenagers started pouring out of the school. Shiloh packed his bag with patient diligence, pulling his bag over his shoulders. He had to wait after school until Chase was done with football practice. Alice went with her best friend to Girl Scouts, so it would just be him.

That was all well and good, he wanted to start looking at his Chemistry book. His Chemistry teacher had a monotonous voice and lectured with his eyes closed, but he had made one thing very clear: You needed to read the book. You needed to read it early, you needed to read it more than once, and you needed to read it.

Shiloh trekked out to the football field, counting his homework assignments as he went.

Ms. Yurimura had hit the ground running with Calculus, so he had math homework, Mr. McCadden had told him to start reading the book, Ms. Jones had assigned a ‘Summer Story’ in Sign Language, and his other classes only needed a signed syllabus by Friday.

While he enjoyed summer as much as anyone else, it felt nice to be busy again. He wasn’t exactly a beacon of social prowess, so his summer had been for the most part uneventful.

He climbed into the bleachers, sitting close to the field to keep an ear on the practice. He then settled in to read his Chem book.

_Chapter one: The Atom._

He got a few pages in before a handful of kids in his year filed into the bleachers a few rows above him, running their mouths at an obnoxious noise level. One of them was retelling an online adventure.

“And then that guy—faggot tryhard, he snipes me from across the map!”

Shiloh pulled his textbook closer, trying to block them out.

“And the whole time he’s shouting ‘Oooh, that was a no scope! Ooooh!’ Ugh, he was definitely trigger hacking at least.”

Shiloh couldn’t suppress an eyeroll.

Focus.

_In atomic physics, the Rutherford–Bohr model or Bohr model, introduced by Niels Bohr in 1913, depicts the atomas a small, positively charged nucleus surrounded by electrons that travel in circular orbits around the nucleus—similar in structure to the solar system, but with attraction provided by electrostatic forces rather than gravity._

“Hey.” One of the boys called down to him.

He could feel their eyes on him. It made his skin prickle. He hated when people stared at him. He decided to ignore them.

_After the cubic model (1902), the plum-pudding model (1904), the Saturnian model (1904), and the Rutherford model(1911) came the Rutherford–Bohr model or just Bohr model for short (1913). The improvement to the Rutherford model is mostly a quantum physical interpretation of it. The Bohr model has been superseded, but the quantum theory remains sound._

“Stillman!”

It made him flinch.

He hated yelling so much.

He turned, raising his eyebrows to show he was listening.

“What’s up, man?” One of the boys waved at him. The others talked behind their hands and laughed at him. This group of boys were all the same. They liked to talk to him like he was special and get an ego boost from being nice to the weird kid.

Even if they said terrible things about him when they thought he couldn’t hear them. He slid his note pad out of his bag, writing on the first blank page neatly.

_I’m trying to study_  
  
---  
  
He held it up to the boy.

“Oh yeah… I forgot you were doing the whole not talking thing.”

Shiloh went back to his book.

_The model's key success lay in explaining the Rydberg formula for the spectral emission lines of atomic hydrogen. While the Rydberg formula had been known experimentally, it did not gain a theoretical underpinning until the Bohr model was introduced. Not only did the Bohr model explain the reason for the structure of the Rydberg formula, it also provided a justification for its empirical results in terms of fundamental physical constants._

The boy chucked an eraser at the back of his head.

“No need to be rude!” He called. His friends laughed. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Shiloh heard his friends calling him names.

It was really agitating.

Shiloh’s shoulders were tense, he was poised for another eraser to hit him.

It made it hard to read.

 

Eventually the practice ended and he gathered his stuff, more quickly this time. He trotted down to the locker rooms to wait for his brother. It felt odd to go into the locker room. During P.E. it was more of a mad dash in and out, but the senior boys were milling about, ditching their pads and helmets and walking around shirtless.

Shiloh coughed awkwardly, trying not to stare. He tracked down his brother and sat on the bench close to his locker, tapping his foot nervously.

“Geez, Shi, try being more awkward.” His brother teased, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “It’s just the guys, it won’t turn you gay.” He joked, giving his little brother a playful shove.

It wasn’t that they didn’t get along.

They were just so different.

Chase was a staple football player, enough brains to make captain but not enough to pass Spanish. Blonde hair, wide smile, many girlfriends, got on with almost everyone, easy going…

Shiloh had a hard time seeing any similarity between them. His brother was almost a whole foot taller than him, had blonde hair and blue eyes that were nothing like his black hair and grey eyes. Shiloh had been tutoring him in math since middle school, and was pegged as his year's valedictorian. Introverted, more often by himself than with anyone else, an easy target for ridicule, and high-strung most of the time…

People didn’t believe him when he said that Chase Stillman was his brother.

Shiloh gave a little shrug. He flipped a page in his notepad, scribbling neatly.

_Don’t let Alice hear you talk like that_  
  
---  
  
Chase grinned, putting a finger to his lips.

Alice was really into being politically correct.

Usually Shiloh agreed with what she had to say, but she could get extreme.

“Let’s get going then.” Chase closed his locker and slung his backpack over his shoulders. He was also taking his away gear, since the team wasn’t allowed to come back in the locker room during the school day.

This room was also the team locker room for girl’s water polo and girl’s baseball, which honestly just seemed like poor planning.

Shiloh followed Chase out of the locker room, keeping his eyes either on the floor or on his brother’s back. Before they could escape outside, however, one of Chase’s teammates caught them.

“Ey, Captain!” He shook Chase’s hand and gave him a quick fist bump. “You got room in your car for me to next week’s scrimmage? Mine’s in the shop again.”

“If you pay for gas.” Chase teased, giving him a shove.

“Sure, man.” The kid laughed. His dark skin made his teeth look really white. Or maybe they _were_ really white, Shiloh wasn’t sure. He was standing around in only compression shorts and a jock strap, which was socially strenuous to say the least.

“Sorry, this is my baby brother, Shiloh.” Chase offered.

Shiloh gave a little squawk at being called a baby. It was as vocal as he got nowadays.

“Shi, this is Degan Jones, my favorite running back.”

“Fuck man, call me Degg.” He reached out for Shiloh’s hand.

Shiloh could not make himself reach out for it. Chase moved on quickly, used to his brother’s neurotic tendencies.

“You wanna leave your shit in my car?”

“I'll need it before then,” Degg dropped his hand. “I’ll bring it the day of.”

“Alright, see you then.” Chase gave him a wave and headed off again.

Shiloh sighed.

Geez, Shi, try being more awkward…

* * *

 

The whole way home he thought about it.

Was he an embarrassment to Chase? Did Degan think he was weird? Undoubtedly.

That was why lots of people didn’t like him.

His mother said it was because they didn’t understand him.

It didn’t change the fact that most people ignored him.

That came with the description of mute weirdo though.

Some people were more opposed to him.

He’d gotten used to people ignoring him, prefered it even, but when people started to actively oppose his habits… That’s when it got complicated.

His family were used to it. After three years he’d pretty much squashed all hope that one day he was going to wake up and start talking again.

But occasionally people at school would fix that in their mind.

Some even tried to make him talk.

A teacher a few years ago had been obsessed with it. She assigned endless group projects that required presentations, but Shiloh usually got out of it by doing a lot of behind the scenes work, so he didn’t have to present in from of the class.

About the end of the first semester she ‘was finished with his shenanigans.’ She stopped answering him when he wrote down questions, started taking off points for ‘lack of participation’ and made the class final a solo oral presentation, ‘with emphasis on oral.’

She made him go first.

A whole silent class period, a panic attack, a note in his file, and a recommendation to a therapist later and he spent the rest of the semester in the library that period.

After a threatened lawsuit the teacher had to go to a mental illness and autism sensitivity class.

From then on most teachers left him alone.

But students were another story. Sure, Shiloh had Gil, but that was one kid who really got it. And he wasn’t in school most the time for health reasons.

It was lonely most of the time, but Shiloh could deal with lonely. It was when people called him names and threw erasers that it started to be a problem.

It hadn’t gotten too bad yet.

Most the people he had class with had the decency to call him a freak behind his back.

Instead of to his side, really loudly in hopes he would hear.

It also went without saying that his siblings helped.

His brother was generally well liked, so when people met his ‘baby brother’ they were polite, so as to not upset Chase.

His sister had a reputation of standing up against impolite people, especially when it came to Shiloh. So most people kept their mouth shut around her.

So Shiloh was pretty thankful to have his siblings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Textbook excerpts from Wikepedia page on the Bohr Theory on atomic structure
> 
> Degan is pronounced Degg-Ann


	3. Mononoaware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiloh spends an evening at home, analyzing his family and how compensation effects everyone.

Chase did his best parking the car, but his tendency to make wide turns and drive a little too fast showed when he was far from parallel to the curb in front of their house.

It was technically his grandmother’s house, but they had been living there for three years, so now it was just home.

His grandmother bought it cheap and brand new when half the houses weren’t built yet and there wasn’t a ‘neighborhood’ around it. But since then the suburbia sprawled around it. Where his grandmother got the money to buy it Shiloh didn’t know. But, as she put it: When family needs it, do it.

Or at least that’s what his mother had translated it to.

Chase grabbed all his stuff and hurried inside, kicking off his shows into a box outside the door.

It was always a race to see who could grab the shower first, since Alice got home at about the same time.

There were multiple bathrooms, of course, but each was better for something else.

Their grandmother’s bathroom was off limits, his mother’s was only for the kids to shower or wash hands in, so it was between the guest and ‘kids’ bathroom most of the time. The kids’ bathroom wall to wall mirrors, so in the morning Chase and Alice danced around each other. With Alice’s makeup and Chase’s hair, Shiloh barely had room to brush his teeth.

Shiloh removed his shoes and followed him inside. The guest bathroom was prime for showers, which is why Chase was stomping up and down the stairs to get ready.

Shiloh waved at his grandmother and sat down at the kitchen table, unloading his backpack to work on homework. She waved back passively, pouring over a cookbook written only in japanese.

She only read japanese, and spoke such poor English that it was hard to understand most of the time, so Shiloh figured there was no way they could ever have a deep conversation. She tried with his siblings, and Alice started taking classes and could chat about the weather, but she really only spoke to his mother.

Honestly, his mom hadn’t said much about her, except that she used to be very western, since she married their grandfather and moved to America. He indulged her japanese, so she never learned English, and spoiled her with American fashion and food. But after he died, she went back to her roots to ‘preserve her culture to pass on to the children.’

At least she was a very good cook. She made traditional recipes most nights a week. Other days his mom made something like spaghetti. Once or twice Chase and Alice teamed up and made burgers on the grill out back.

Shiloh wasn’t very good at cooking.

So he looked back at his books.

He was starting to get bored with the atom when his sister burst through the door, twittering on the phone to someone.

“Yeah, I seriously need to get my hands on that jacket, I want to add this lace trim to it, I think it’ll be swell.” She waved at Shiloh and hopped up the stairs, shouting a Chase to get out of the shower already, seriously.

She’d been saying seriously a lot more recently. And swell now that Shiloh thought about it.

“Groceries!” Shiloh’s mother held the door with her foot, trying to balance her purse and four plastic bags in her arms at the same time.

Shiloh dropped his pencil into the valley created by the pages of his textbook and rose to help her, starting by holding open the door for her.

Chase bounded down the stairs with wet hair raining onto his shoulders. He took all the bags from his mother and ran to the kitchen.

Shiloh headed for the car.

Chase got to drive the old pickup that was a stick and needed maintenance every year, and their mom drove the soccer mom van. It was old too, but not as old.

The back was cracked open and the grocery bags were piled on top of each other. As Shiloh started unloading, his mother came back out to help.

She’d put a milk jug on top of a loaf of sliced bread, considerably smushing it.

Shiloh freed the whole wheat from a low-fat dairy deathtrap, trying to mold into a normal shape. His mom sighed at his shoulder, grabbing the milk.

“How was school honey?” She squeezed his shoulders. Shiloh begrudged her touch and tried to not tense up at it.

He smiled at her and gave a thumbs up.

It was good. She seemed to believe him, because she smiled and kissed his head.

She was a very touchy woman. It was like she needed to touch everyone to feel like they understood her.

Shiloh was used to it.

* * *

 They got everything in the house and put away just in time for dinner. Alice appeared with a towel wrapped around her head to join them.

Their grandmother had spent hours on Soba, a noodle dish in a savory tsuyu broth. She’d also fried some vegetables and chopped up fresh ones to add to the bowls.

Chase was boasting.

“Coach says this year might be prime,” He couldn’t work chopsticks, so he was spinning the noodles around the prongs of a fork. “Varsity has a scrimmage tomorrow against Lincoln High, and Adam’s cousin goes there and says their team hasn’t practiced since last season.”

“When is your first game?” Their mother asked.

“We don’t have any real games until season starts, but we have a lot of scrimmages before then. Right now it’s mostly for bragging rights.”

Shiloh had gotten much better with chopsticks in the past few years. He knew their grandmother got annoyed that Chase used a fork, but she never said anything about it.

Her hands were shaking as she handled her own chopsticks, but she seemed to be fighting hard to control them.

Since they had moved in with her she’d been more open to asking for help, but not by much. She was being gripped by a pride that afflicted many people her age, which kept her from wanting to talk to doctors or her own daughter about her health, rejecting much help beyond translation and reaching things on high shelves, and trying to take on even more work that before.

She insisted on doing the houses laundry, ‘to make herself useful’ according to Shiloh’s mother. She seemed to always be compensating for something or other. When he paid attention Shiloh started to see how she might have felt she was lacking.

When he really thought about it, most people were like that. Everyone was trying to make up for where they were lacking.

Chase talked with more volume the less he knew about something. Alice took on more projects and extracurriculars the more less faith she had in her world. Shiloh’s mother bought and cooked more food the less money she felt she had. His grandmother did more work the less useful she felt.

And Shiloh?

He held back more the less people listened.

* * *

 Before he could get to sleep, he spent a good long time staring at his bedroom ceiling. He had a room all to himself but he could still hear his sister snoring through the wall.

She used to wear those nose strip things but once it got stuck to her eyebrow and they had to cut it out, so she didn’t like the wear them anymore.

As far as first days went, today was pretty good.

There was nothing that was too upsetting, he’d done all his homework with little issue, and—it had just downed on him now—he had not had a panic attack today.

For the last three years, whenever a new semester started he had a panic attack. Usually they were at home after the adrenaline had worn off and he had time to breathe and decompress.

Maybe he was getting better?

Shiloh felt his breath start to quicken and shallow out, but forced himself to breathe calm and deep.

Has his mother noticed? She knew that he freaked out whenever a semester started… She must have noticed.

Trying to quiet the sudden ringing in his mind, Shiloh turned on his red reading light with a soft click and grabbed a book from his bedside table.

Good ol’ science fiction.

A great distractor.

This one so far had been about a xenolinguist who was taxed with working through a peace treaty between two alien races, but in a moment of stress had made a fatal error.

She was currently trying to establish communication links with both of the diplomats she’d met with to right her mistake.

When sleep finally started to weigh down his eyelids, Shiloh put the book aside and folded his hands over his chest, feeling more at peace than before.

Things were getting better.

He could be getting better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Monoaware" is "the pathos of things." It is the awareness of the impermanence of all things and the gentle sadness and wistfulness at their passing. --https://www.theodysseyonline.com/11-beautiful-untranslatable-japanese-words  
> Exolinguistics (also called xenolinguistics and astrolinguistics) is the study of the hypothetical language of alien species. --https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alien_language


	4. Screws Fall Out All the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit, are you deaf?” Christian seemed taken aback by the notepad. Most people were.
> 
> With another sigh, Shiloh turned around, flipping the notebook to the first page. Whenever he started a new one he wrote the following on the first page:
> 
> My name is Shiloh. I don’t talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics indicate notes written by Shiloh
> 
> Name: Hours:Minutes - message sections indicate texts

“Can I borrow a pencil?” Christian whispered as he sat down. He’d walked in late again, and had gotten off with another lemon doughnut. It was only the second day of school and he had been tardy twice. The mere thought was horrifying.

For some reason he really irritated Shiloh. But he gave him a pencil anyway.

“Thanks man.” Christian took it gently, trying to catch up on notes.

He was lucky, because Ms. Yu got a phone call at that exact moment, giving him more time to write feverishly.

“Was there anything before this?” He asked. Shiloh passed back his notebook.

“Gracias,” He muttered, copying is quickly. “These are good.”

Shiloh gave a shrug.

“Fuck, the subway was so late this morning.” Christian explained, handing back Shiloh’s notes. “I actually got up at a decent hour to get here on time too.”

Shiloh nodded. There was no way to reply to that.

Ms. Yu stepped out of the room on the phone, stretching the cord as far as it would go. She seemed agitated.

“Whatcha think her call is about?” Christian asked, leaning forward over his desk.

Shiloh gave a little sigh, opening his pad to the next blank page and writing.

_The counselors didn’t program 60 students right. They’re missing a math class, so they’re trying to put them anywhere there’s room._  
  
---  
  
He passed it back.

“Shit, are you deaf?” Christian seemed taken aback by the notepad. Most people were.

With another sigh, Shiloh turned around, flipping the notebook to the first page. Whenever he started a new one he wrote the following on the first page:

_My name is Shiloh. I don’t talk._  
  
---  
  
Sometimes he added other messages with it if he got the same questions a lot.

He wrote under his introduction:

_I’m not deaf._  
  
---  
  
“Huh…” Christian looked from the pad to Shiloh’s face. “I’m Christian by the way.”

_I know._  
  
---  
  
“Why don’t you talk?”

That was another common one.

_I just don’t._  
  
---  
  
“Okay.” Christian accepted it pretty well. “How did you know about the counselors?”

_I work in the counseling office 6th period._  
  
---  
  
“Lucky. I’m in attendance, they don’t gossip for shit.” Christian had such odd eyes. They were like molten gold, glinting at him with some odd expression.

Ms. Yu slammed her phone back on the receiver, looking cross.

“Alright, let’s continue.” She clicked to the next slide. “If the graph approaches two different values, such as positive infinity and negative infinity, then the limit is said to not exist, written DNE.”

Christian did not return Shiloh’s pencil.

* * *

 

Chemistry was fine.

Melanie talked at him for a minute or so before her friends showed up.

They had a test two weeks from Friday. Shiloh penciled it into his schedule, already mapping out a study plan.

He would need to reread the chapters, write a condensed outline, and find a practice test somewhere. He could do that, it was fairly simple.

The day started to pass, already slipping into a rhythm that would take Shiloh to the end of the year. It was nice to think that everything was starting to even out for him.

A few minutes before lunch his phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from his sister:

Where will u b at lunch?

 

 

He typed a message back, keeping his phone tucked out of sight of Ms. Jones.

 

D120. Why?

 

I need to give u sumthing 4 Chase after skool :*

 

Why can’t you give it to him yourself?

 

He wont answer me

 

& i’m gonna get boba with Michelle + G after school.

 

 

The bell rang shrilly, and the pink light on Ms. Jones’s desk flashed. She waved them all out, signing that they need to finish their Summer Stories by the end of this week.

Shiloh darted through the throng filling the hallway, texting between his dodges.

Okay. Meet me outside the room.

 

He waited a few minutes in the doorway before his sister showed up,with two beautiful girls in tow.

He did not recognize one, but the other girl was Alice’s long time ‘BFF.’

Her name was Geffen and she was very proud of her eyebrows. She waved at him, awkwardly signing ‘What’s up?’

He’d taught it to her once when she came to visit Alice.

He waved back and flashed a thumbs up.

Alice laughed high and forced, teasing them. “Enough flirting guys!”

She would not let go of the fact that when Shiloh was eight he had a crush on Geffen. He stared at his sister and hoped she’d see the daggers he was imagining.

The other girl must be Michelle. Shiloh didn’t know her, but she smiled big and had a lot of teeth. She made a weird squealing noise and ruffled his hair.

“Your brother is so cute!”

“Mitch, don’t touch him,” Alice chided, unzipping her backpack and pulling out a shiny pink folder with hearts on it. “He hates that.”

He did. Of course he shouldn’t blame her, but he felt anger rising in him as he smoothed his bangs into position. He combed it every day the same way and liked it that way. He didn’t need some girl messing with it.

Alice handed Shiloh a paper. It looked like a school form for football or something.

“They called me into the office to get this, but it’s for Chase, I think he needs it for the game after school…”

Shiloh nodded, taking it from her and folding it into his own folder. Michelle immediately moved on, scrutinizing the graffiti on a nearby locker.

“It says ‘Fuck Sherman,’ that’s hilarious!” she laughed, her teeth clicking together.

“That’s a shitty thing to write,” Alice said, her voice soft. Shiloh could see the Anti-Graffiti League project forming between her ears.

It wasn’t like she needed a new project. Between Girl Scouts and Student Council and band and school she pretty much had her hands full. But she was always starting new things, like pushing for water stations that encourage using water bottles, partnering with local elementary schools to create gardens, and working with the Sherman High Gay Straight Alliance to add a non gendered restroom.

She was so busy.

“It’s true though, this place sucks,” Geffen gestured to the ceiling, which was missing more cardboard tiles than there were left glued up. “I mean, the front door to the student cabinet room won’t even open. Since that pin thing fell out it’s locked shut, and Ms. Swan lost it.”

“I just wish more people would have school pride...” Alice clicked her tongue. “Well, thanks Shi, I’ll see you at home?”

Shiloh nodded, zipping his backpack closed. He waved at Geffen and suppressed any negative expressions to nod at Michelle.

Alice linked arms with Geffen and they walked off down the hall towards the cafeteria.

Shiloh looked back at the locker graffiti.

He had to agree with the message.

* * *

 

Shiloh cracked open his Health book to the Digestion chapter in the lull between students needing class changes.

_The digestive system is made up of the gastrointestinal (GI) tract—also called the digestive tract—and the liver, pancreas, and gallbladder. The GI tract is a series of hollow organs joined in a long, twisting tube from the mouth to the anus. The hollow organs that make up the GI tract are the mouth, esophagus, stomach, small intestine, large intestine—which includes the rectum—and anus. Food enters the mouth and passes to the anus through the hollow organs of the GI tract. The liver, pancreas, and gallbladder are the solid organs of the digestive system. The digestive system helps the body digest food._

“Would you stop that?” The woman next to him asked with more than a little annoyance. “The leg thing.”

Shiloh didn’t realize he had been bouncing his leg under the table. It must have been shaking the whole thing.

He tensed his legs, focusing on not doing it again.

Two of the counselors came out of the School Psychologist’s office, both looking at the same notebook and arguing in passive tones.

“He _is_ your student.” One of them offered. She was had glasses with square frames and beads to keep them round her neck when they fell off and wild orange hair forced into a bun at the back of her neck. Shiloh tried to remember her name but could not.

“For academics! I just organize his classes.” The man was balding and very round, with a very red face that made him look overall like a tomato. “Whenever he’s come in for that he’s seemed normal, not reason for concern.”

Shiloh was listening intently, but neither of the counselors nor the secretary sat beside him noticed. His general quiet nature kept him from suspicion most of the time. He was always written off as harmless, so no one minded talking about sensitive things when he was around.

It also helped that he appeared to be staring intensely at

“No matter what we have to mention what Tyson said. And we are supposed to help students beyond scheduling.” She was pointing into the paper of the notebook.

“Why don’t we both do it then?” He offered. “I would like to have to in the room for any support you can give.”

“We don’t even know if it’s needed.” She seemed bored. “But fine, I’ll sit in.”

“I’ll make a pass then.” He folded the notebook under his arm and headed for the counter.

He ripped a fresh yellow pass from the pad and scribbled on it. He folded it in half and turned to Shiloh.

“To room F150.” He held it out.

Shiloh closed his book with a snap and took the paper.

He liked delivering passes, it gave him the chance to walk around the school while there was almost no traffic.

The only sound was his feet tapping on the linoleum and the faraway sound of a documentary playing.

Within minutes he was standing in front of the door to F150. Sometimes teachers left their door open, which Shiloh preferred to having to knock. This one was closed, so he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

A bored looking girl answered the door and let him into the room. A teacher with a goatee that Shiloh had not met before was standing in front of a map of Eurasia drawing arrows.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

Shiloh waded through the desks to hand him the note. He could feel forty-plus pairs of eyes boring into him and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The teacher read the note and looked towards the back of the room.

“Christian!”

Shiloh followed his gaze to see his classmates’ head buried in his arms at the back of the room.

A blonde girl sat next to him started to shake him awake.

“Hmm? I’m listening.” He mumbled, throwing his head back. The teacher waved the slip at him.

He swore quietly and pushed himself out of his chair.

“I’ll send him at the end of the period.” The goateed teacher told Shiloh.

With a nod, he left the room and went back down the hall towards the Administrative building.

He vaguely wondered what the counselors wanted with Christian. Maybe they were going to talk to him about showing up late to first period. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Textbook excerpts about Digestion come from: https://www.niddk.nih.gov/health-information/health-topics/Anatomy/your-digestive-system/Pages/anatomy.aspx


	5. The Limit Does Not Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Limits.
> 
> Most of them were easy. Solid lines were hard to follow. When there’s a horizontal asymptote at y=a then the limit as x approaches infinity is a.
> 
> It was simple.
> 
> Much simpler than people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw bullying, namecalling

While Shiloh tried to get some work done after school, an announcement echoed across the school: “There will be no late buses today, so get to the service road before before they leave. Again, there will be no late buses today.”

He had delivered the paper from Alice before Chase’s scrimmage started. Chase didn’t even look at it before he stuffed it into his locker.

Now Shiloh was back in the football stands, sitting with his book on his knees and copying the questions he had for homework.

Limits.

Most of them were easy. Solid lines were hard to follow. When there’s a horizontal asymptote at y=a then the limit as x approaches infinity is a.

It was simple.

Much simpler than people.

As he continued to work, he entertained the thought of humans defined like limits.

Some people were easy. They had horizontal asymptotes of stereotypes that narrowed them down as easily as y=a. Chase, for example. Jock. Friendly, a little mean, but generally a good guy.

Some people were a little harder to solve. Holes, for example, where the graph exists everywhere but where you’re evaluating, were like someone hiding something. Everything looks to be in order but you can’t definitively say that they follow what’s expected. Like Shiloh’s mom, archetypically caring and loving, but sometimes you could see a sad streak.

And some people were an enigma. From one perspective they perfectly fit one kind of graph, but from another they were totally different. Their limits didn’t exist. Kind of like—

His train of thought was interrupted by an eraser to the back of the head.

“Hey weirdo!”

Shiloh sighed. That boy, Shiloh didn’t know his name, but he had taken every opportunity to mess with him since the first day of school.

That someone could take such small pleasure in the things he did was confounding. At least it fit his graph.

Shiloh decided to ignore him.

Limits.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Something else his the back of his head, this time it stung sharply.

Shiloh hissed, touching the back of his head.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The boy snickered, stomping down the bleachers to Shiloh’s level. Shiloh could hear his friends laughing.

“I had a question, I thought you’d know about it.”

Best answer it quick, Shiloh thought, so he pulled out his pad.

“Great. What are retarded classes like at this school? Do you guys really have to stay in the same room all day?”

A trap. Of course. Fed up, Shiloh scribbled on his pad.

_GO AWAY_  
  
---  
  
“I need an answer, silly.” He reach out to touch Shiloh’s head.

Shiloh flinched out of the way, angrily flipping to the next page on his pad. The boy started laughing.

“Not with that.” He snatched it from Shiloh’s hands. “Tell me.”

Shiloh stood at that, with no real plan in mind. He got shoved back down, slamming his elbow into the seat.

The boy took off with his note pad, down the steps and around the bleachers.

His arm buzzing painfully, Shiloh started to run after him.

“Come on, freak! Come get it!” The boy called, turning and waving the notebook in the air. He let Shiloh almost reach him before darting under the bleachers. “Maybe I’ll go through it and give you some voice!”

He started to rifle through the pages, reading bits and pieces.

“My name is Shiloh, I don’t talk!

“I’m not deaf!

“Don’t let Alice hear you talk like that!

“I love you too Mom, aw, that’s adorable!”

Shiloh fought back tears. He had never been so angry and sad. He’d lost him again, and

“Ooh, this is my favorit—” His voice suddenly stopped.

“Hola, Sergio.” Christian pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Uhh, hi, Christian…” He faltered.

“What’s this?” Christian pinched the cigarette between his lips. It seemed like he was trying his best to look like the villain in an 80’s movie. The black jacket, messy hair, the smile…

Shiloh’s chest hurt.

How could one person approach so many different values?

Sergio’s face split into a smile. “Just fucking around, y’know.” He handed Christian the pad. “You should read it, good stuff.”

“Hm.” Christian put it in his pocket. “Is this what gets you off?”

“Huh?” Sergio seemed offended.

“Fucking with people? Just cause he doesn’t talk?” Christian tucked the unlit cigarette behind his ear. “You need a new hobby, compañero.”

“Well…He’s a freak, so-”

Christian grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, lifting him till they were nose to nose.

“Maybe you should spend less time worrying about him and more time worrying about you, hm?”

“Y-y-yeah.” Sergio raised his hands defensively.

“Hm.” Christian put him down, almost gently, and smoothed the front of his shirt. “Get a new hobby. Chess maybe?” He walked past them, putting his cigarette back in his mouth. “Fucking lacrosse? I don’t know.” He waved at Shiloh to follow him.

When Shiloh caught up enough to walk in line with him he handed the pad back, with a familiar pencil.

“Forgot to give it back,” He explained, finally lighting his cigarette.

Shiloh didn’t know how to reply. He was wholly terrified and confused and even a little excited over what had just happened.

It was like something out of a movie.

He’d just stood there watching like it was a movie.

He looked up at Christian as they rounded the bleachers.

Christian… He was smiling at the blue sky with gold eyes and smoke coming from his nose.

Was he a deadbeat, dangerous, just a stranger, or kind?

“You alright?” He asked with a sidelong glance down at Shiloh.

Shiloh nodded. At the corner Christian paused awkwardly, looking at him for some direction.

After a moment, Shiloh pointed to where he was sitting and started back up into the bleachers.

Sergio’s friends looked confused and cautious. They didn’t say anything to the two boys as they shuffled back to Shiloh’s backpack.

Shiloh pulled his math book back into his lap, trying to think of something to supply conversation. Thank you? Are you a crazy person? Did you do the math homework yet?

Christian said something before Shiloh could think himself out of every option.

“Why are you sitting here by yourself?” Christian blew a plume of smoke over his shoulder.

Shiloh flipped open his notebook. Some of the pages were loose and some were badly wrinkled. He found a blank and relatively smooth page and wrote on it.

_My brother has practice. I do homework here until it’s over._  
  
---  
  
After a moment he added under it:

_Do you usually stay after school?_  
  
---  
  
Christian read it quickly. “Nah, I just missed the bus. I could take the subway, or walk, but… In all honesty I’d rather be anywhere but home right now.”

Shiloh wondered if that was a safe area to pry. He could empathize with that feeling fairly easily, he lived that when his parents were falling apart.

Every day was a fight or his mom cried because she was worried about the kids and his dad or his dad got frustrated at them for being kids and would yell. Then more fighting. If that was anything like Christian’s house, maybe he shouldn’t ask.

“Which one is your brother?” Christian was staring out at the field. The team was doing a relay race, helmets off but pads on. Thankfully they had practice jerseys or Shiloh wouldn’t have found Chase so easily.

_Number five. Chase Stillman. He’s got blonde hair?_  
  
---  
  
“Damn.” Christian squinted into the sun. “He’s hot.”

Shiloh couldn’t help an indignant squeak. Christian laughed to himself. Of course he was laughing at Shiloh but somehow it didn’t feel judgemental at all.

“I’m kidding.” Christian explained. “I can’t see anything from here. I know which one he is but that’s it.”

The smell of his cigarette was foreign. The more Christian exhaled it the more it overwhelmed Shiloh. It made his head swim a little.

They sat in silence for a bit until Shiloh can’t take it anymore.

_Did you look at the math homework yet?_  
  
---  
  
Christian chuffed.

“No. I’m getting ahead on not doing any homework.”

Shiloh tried not to look as offended as he was.

_Why?_  
  
---  
  
He jumped at it. This subject was much safer than family and home life.

“Cause what’s the point? I’ll serve my time, not graduate, and get to the life I was destined as a deadbeat. I can always start a small business.” He clicked a wink at the idea. Shiloh did not follow, but pretended he did.

_It’s never too late._

_My brother didn’t think he was going to pass Algebra 1, so he might not graduate, but he worked really hard and ended with a C._

_Plus, it’s the beginning of the year. You at least tried taking notes._  
  
---  
  
Christian read it over, an odd expression coming over his face.

He looked like he might laugh, or was really surprised.

“I’m already a lost cause I think. Just writing it doesn’t mean I get it.”

_I could help you?_  
  
---  
  
On the field, Coach MacLovich blew long and hard into his whistle, signaling that practice was over.

Christian handed the pad back, standing up.

“I guess I’ll think about it.” He dropped his cigarette butt between the bleachers and pulled out his phone, reading something on the screen. “But not right now, Gloria wants me to come over.” He put his phone away and started down the bleachers.

Halfway to the bottom he turned back. “And hey, let me know if ol’ Serg tries to fuck with you again.”

Shiloh nodded, feeling more confused than ever.

“It’s been a while since I had a good reason to beat up an underclassmen.” Christian waved and disappeared around the side of the bleachers.

Limits.

People were hardly as simple as limits.

Some people were an enigma all on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't done limits for a few years, so forgive if I made any mistakes


	6. Typical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you ever talk?”  
> Shiloh cleared his throat for no reason at all, flipping open his note pad.  
>  _It’s been little more than three years since I stopped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw panic attack, mention of domestic abuse

“Where do you sit at lunch?” Christian slid into his seat on time today.

It took Shiloh a second to realize that it was a genuine question. Christian’s gold eyes were waiting.

_Room D120._  
  
---  
  
“Who’s is that?”

_Mr. Strichter. He’s an ASL teacher._  
  
---  
  
“Hmm. You wanna sit with me?”

Shiloh wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the victim of a joke. That he’d end up stood up and laughed at because he jumped at the first sign of kindness. 

He’d been messed with far too long to trust Christian.

But yesterday… Christian didn’t like Sergio, had told him ‘You need a new hobby, compañero.’

Someone who said that wouldn’t turn around and pull the same thing right?

Shiloh realized he was just staring at Christian’s expectant face.

_Not today._  
  
---  
  
He couldn’t come up with a lie so he just showed that to Christian. 

“Oh… Okay, no problem.” Christian took out his notes and pulled a piece of paper from his textbook’s pages.

The homework.

Shiloh turned around, avoiding any further conversation with him. Had he decided to do the homework because of what they discussed yesterday? 

Ms. Yu took her place in front of the class as a handful of new students filed in. She signed their schedules and gave them seats. One boy had to sit at a computer against the back wall and crane his neck to see the screen.

Shiloh felt a little guilty about saying no, but he brushed it off and set to work. 

More limits. More complicated limits. Focus on that.

He still felt guilty when class let out.

 

After school couldn’t have come fast enough. Shiloh was settling into his routine and structure that helped him stay calm most the time. 

His therapist said that he had control issues.

He didn’t go to therapy that often anymore. His mom had given up on him being fixed by some doctor who was always too eager to suggest medication. 

He didn’t need medication.

He needed to study for Chemistry.

Shiloh settled in the same spot as yesterday, the same spot as the day before and the Friday before and really every day since school started.

It wasn’t crazy to like structure. 

He wasn’t crazy.

“No one thinks you’re crazy, Shiloh,” The last one, Sherry, had promised. People did. They thought he was a weirdo freak crazy person who tortured small animals and didn’t talk because he liked forcing people to read his notes.

Sherry had told his mom that he’d probably stopped talking because his life felt out of control and needed to stop talking to feel more in control, because he liked being able to censor himself.

Then she blamed the divorce. 

Typical.

Whenever a therapist finds out about a divorce, every issue gets pinned to that.

Kids feel out of control when their parents split up.

They act out, they act in, they try to kill themselves because they just can’t handle that mom and dad don’t love each other anymore.

That was very morbid.

One thing therapy had taught him was how to recognize emotionally charged thoughts.

But he used that power to suppress them, which is probably not what Melvin, one of his first therapists, had intended.

He switched therapists whenever they tried to make him talk. 

At some point they always did. They got too frustrated or thought they knew him well enough or thought he was okay enough. They’d forced enough outings with his dad and family therapy about the divorce and it was time for little Shiloh to be fixed.

It’s not like would just start talking again.

Shiloh’s throat was thick from thinking too hard about it, so he pulled his book close and jotted down a formula or two to distract himself.

That’s why he tried to keep busy.

Thinking too much was never good.

He heard whispering and snickering somewhere behind him, and knew it was Sergio and his friends.

A nervous chill gripped him. What if they did something to him in retaliation for yesterday? 

Now he was really regretting not sitting with Christian at lunch. If he were here now Shiloh would feel much more at ease.

He tried to focus on Chemistry but his mind was racing with what horrible things they could do to him.

It started with visions of Sergio taking his notepad and running around again and quickly escalated to bodily harm. He couldn’t stop himself, he just kept scanning the same line of his textbook without reading.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Shiloh pushed the textbook from his lap, doubling over and pushing his head between his knees. 

It had been a while since he’d had a panic attack like this.

Rationalize, come on.

They want to kill you. They’re going to kill you.

No.

They can’t. Chase would see, he’s right there. Chase and the football coach and the whole team are right there, they wouldn't let that happen. Chase wouldn’t let that happen.

Breathe. No one can hurt you. 

Shiloh flexed his toes in his shoes. He was present. He was in the bleachers at his high school. It was around four in the afternoon and he was in control.

He was in the same spot he sat in every day after school because it was close and he could keep an ear on the practice.

He could feel someone hopping down the bleachers to where he was. Oh no, no no no no no no no no fuck. Please just leave him alone. Shiloh straightened and exhaled long and hard.

He was in control. If they wanted to fuck with him— 

“Hola, compañero.”

Shiloh was surprised that he could hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

“...Are you okay?”

He’d never been so happy to hear someone’s voice.

Christian sat next to him, shrugging off his coat and giving him a look like a concerned teacher or parent.

Shiloh was still breathing hard, but he was breathing. He waved his hand about, as if to say: It’s nothing, I’m fine.

He wasn’t sure what he meant by it.

“You sure? You look freaked out…”

Shiloh shook his head a little too much.

He was fine. He was in control.

“Serg didn’t fuck with you did he?”

Another head shake, but Shiloh tried to look serious.

“Okay...” Christian awkwardly patted his shoulder.

For some reason it was very comforting. Something about how candid he was...

They sat in silence while Shiloh tried to solidify his grip on himself. He looked over at Christian at some point, noticing how uncomfortable he looked.

He looked like he wanted to say something. Shiloh tried not to stare, but couldn’t stop looking back to him.

“Did you ever talk?”

Shiloh cleared his throat for no reason at all, flipping open his note pad.

_It’s been little more than three years since I stopped._  
  
---  
  
“Wow…” Christian leaned back, gazing out at the football practice. “That’s a long time…”

Shiloh nodded. It was.

“You mind me asking why? Did you just decide that you didn’t want to? For three years?”

That was a big answer. The easy one was yes, one day I did just stop, but I never decided to.

The real answer…

_That was when my parents split up._  
  
---  
  
“Oh… It was bad, huh?”

Shiloh nodded. Bad didn’t even come close.

_It was bad for a long time. Then it was worse. My dad hit my mom and that was it. She took us and left._  
  
---  
  
Why was he telling Christian? He hadn’t talked about it with anyone except a one or two of his therapists, and that was after a lot of prodding.

“That’s fucked.”

Yeah. It was fucked.

Somehow it helped. More than years of therapists.

Christian didn’t try to make him delve into his psyche, or work through his issues. ‘That’s fucked.’ That’s it.

_I didn’t decide to stop talking either. I just stopped._  
  
---  
  
“You think you could?”

That was a weird question. 

_That’s a weird question._  
  
---  
  
“Well?”

_No idea. I think one day I’ll just snap back and be fixed. Or maybe not…_

 _I don’t know._  
  
---  
  
“Do you want to talk again?”

Shiloh shook his head.

It went back to being awkward very quickly.

_You missed the bus again?_  
  
---  
  
“Yeah, something like that.” Christian laughed like there was some inside joke Shiloh was outside of.


	7. Circumstellar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiloh has a cryptic dream that he does not understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was a break in chapters, had a spell of writer's block  
> and wasn't feeling this story for a bit

Christian delivered him to the locker room without making it weird.

“I’ll see you in math.” Was all he said and with a wave he was gone. 

It left Shiloh at a loss.

What was all of that? Why did he feel the need to tell Christian his life story? Or at least the parts everyone was dying to know. Shiloh headed into the locker room, thinking about how real everything felt when he talked to Christian. 

He wasn’t like a therapist. He didn’t try to make him talk through anything.

He wasn’t like his family. There was a significant lack of tiptoeing around his feelings.

And he wasn’t like most kids at school. There was no pity, no begrudging noises when he had to read a note.

“What’s up with you?” Chase asked, pulling his jersey off his head.

Shiloh shook his head and shrugged.

“Huh…” Chase stripped his gear off, spraying a disgusting amount of AXE over his stinky flesh. “Who was that kid sitting with you?”

The question was pretty surprising. Shiloh didn’t know that Chase kept tabs on him during practice.

_ Someone from my math class. I offered to keep him company since he missed to bus. _  
  
---  
  
That wasn’t true, why was he showing Chase the note.

“Huh… What’s his name?”

_ Christian St. Cross _  
  
---  
  
Chase recoiled. “Ugh,” He groaned. “You shouldn’t talk to him Shi, he’s a huge dick.”

Really?

 

Shiloh fell asleep thinking about meteorites, and woke up floating in a brilliant purple galaxy.

When he dreamt, there was always a duality. Either they were in black and white and perfect silence or they throbbed with vibrant color and deafening sound.

Recently it had only been like old films, where Shiloh couldn’t hear but somehow knew what everyone was saying.

But in this one, even though he knew there was silence in space, there was a light twinkling of stars, like wind chimes, and a furious blowing as a mouse tumbled through clouds of gas and dust.

All of a sudden the mouse came to a direct stop, floating with it’s paws limp below it. It was a simple brown mouse, hardly extraordinary in any way. 

A dog bounded up, shining gold in the starlight. It panted and drooled as it considered the mouse, folding it’s paws and laying down. 

It’s tail pounded against a planet like an earthquake.

“Are you lost?” It whispered in a voice Shiloh couldn’t quite place. It was low and pleasant, with a certain accent and gruff scratching that made it not unlike a cat’s purr, or a growl before a bark. 

Or a human hum of satisfaction, that was a more normal way to think of it.

The mouse cowered in fear of the dog, for it was so much bigger. The dog chuffed a laugh that blew space dust into a cyclone, lifting the mouse and turning it over once.

“Where are you trying to go? Earth?” The dog laughed again. “That’s much too far from here to ever reach.”

“I can make it if I try.” The mouse squeaked in protest.

“You’ll need some help.” The dog reprimanded. “Want a ride?”

It opened its huge maw, flopping a pink tongue out for the mouse to climb in.

“Promise you won’t eat me?” The mouse scrambled in only to be crushed by premolars.

The crunching of bones echoed across the galaxy.

 

A shrill squawking roused Shiloh from what was quickly becoming a nightmare.

Alice’s alarm from next door. 6:15 AM.

Shiloh rubbed his face, pushing down his blankets and climbing out of bed.

A quick change of clothes and his backpack in his hands, he headed to the bathroom before Chase or Alice really got up.

Wash face, check.

Apply deodorant, check

Brush hair, check.

Brush teeth, check.

Floss, check.

He was out of the bathroom before Chase was out of bed. He knocked on Chase’s door as Alice took the bathroom.

She had debate in the morning and Chase had workouts.

Shiloh sat in on the mathletes practice, even though he wasn’t on the team.

He tried one year but they didn’t accept his notepads at the tournaments.

It was a fight he didn’t want to fight.

So now he sat, listened, and offered help when they got stuck.

Shiloh popped two waffles in the toaster while his mom ran around the kitchen in her stockings with her hair half done.

She must have woken up late.

“Morning honey,” She kissed the top of his head as she passed. “Chase up?”

Shiloh nodded, collecting the things he needed for lunch.

“Will you make lunches today? I’m running late.”

Another nod, and a wave as his mother sprinted out the door, only pausing to slide on her shoes by the door.

“Have a great day at school!”

He managed to get his peanut butter and blackberry jelly sandwich done by the time his waffles popped up.

Chocolate chip.

He put them on a paper towel and grabbed more things from the fridge.

Alice wasn’t eating meat right now, so she got mozzarella cheese with tomato slices, pesto, and spinach.

Chase got turkey with mustard, mayonnaise, a kraft single, and lettuce. Shiloh suppressed a cringe when he spread the mayo on the bread.

Three baggies, three reusable lunch bags—No, there were only two in the cabinet.

Two reusable lunch bags and a plastic bag from the bag cabinet.

He added baby carrots as Alice came prancing down the stairs. There were only enough for Alice and Chase.

He preferred olives anyway.

“Is Ma still here?” Alice put bread into the toaster. 

No. Shiloh shook his head. Then he pointed at the ceiling with question eyebrows.

“He’s in the bathroom.” She said. She was wearing too much blush but she liked it that way, so no one bugged her about it.

Shiloh finally got to take his waffles to the kitchen table, munching on them without syrup. 

“It’s too early.” Chase grumbled, lumbering down the steps into the kitchen.

“As the great Tennessee Williams put it: I’ll rise but I won’t shine.” Alice danced out of his way, buttering her toast with a spoon.

“What a smart lady.” Chase pressed his face against the fridge door, fumbling with a box of cereal.

“He’s a man. At least he didn’t ever dispute his assigned gender.” Alice brought her spoon to the kitchen table, licking margarine off it thoughtfully. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Smart man.” Chase was blinking slow and hard. “What time is it?” He slid into place next to Alice.

“6:36. We gotta leave soon.” Alice put down her spoon, ripping her toast up to eat in tiny pieces.

“Mmm.” Chase took her spoon to eat his cereal.

“Big day today Shi Guy?” Alice asked between buttery bites.

Shiloh shrugged.

“Buzz is the mathletes are looking good, what do you think?” Alice often tagged Shiloh in for morning conversation because Chase could not be distracted from food.

_ Yeah. A girl from another district even transferred in just to be on the team. _

_ She’s got a 124 IQ score and took Calculus in middle school. _  
  
---  
  
“Whoa, what’s her name?” Alice brushed crumbs off her fingers onto the table.

_ Ariana Hadamard.  _  
  
---  
  
Shiloh swept up the crumbs with a napkin.

Chase slurped down the last dregs of milk from his bowl, looking more awake.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The put on their shoes, grabbed their backpacks and lunches, locked the front door, and filed into Chase’s truck.

Alice put on the radio and pop music filled the cab.

Shiloh was tucked into the back seat, his legs folded close and his backpack buckled beside him, staring out the window.

He was the only one who fit back there anymore.

The deep purple and violet clouds from his dream floated back into view and once again he was disturbed. 

What did a mouse being eaten by a dog mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what y'all think of the dream  
> Dreams are one of my favorite things to write
> 
> Circumstellar-Around mature stars, they indicate that planetesimal formation has taken place and around white dwarfs, they indicate that planetary material survived the whole of stellar evolution  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circumstellar_disc

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unbeta'd story so far, so I'd love any input you want to give me!  
> I hope to fully publish this one day, so any help you can give will be greatly appreciated
> 
> EDIT: Thank you to MalevolentPetals on deviantART for some help on this work!


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